The One True Gift
by goldieasj
Summary: Heyes and the Kid take a deeply emotional journey, discovering important things about themselves and each other.


**THE ONE TRUE GIFT**

**by Goldie**

December 26, 1885, 9:00 PM, San Francisco. Gunfighter Kid Curry had just arrived after a long, tiring train ride and hailed himself a cab. He rattled off the address to the driver, set his carpetbag inside the cab, and stepped in. The Kid was dressed nicely for the city. All his remaining belongings were inside the bag, including two Christmas presents wrapped in brown paper and tied with twine. He knew from experience that this drive would take almost half an hour, so he leaned back against the comfortable leather seat of the hansom cab and settled in.

As he relaxed, he reflected on the events of the last month. It was at the end of November, or thereabouts, that he and his partner the former train- and bank-robber Hannibal Heyes, had visited a friend named Lom in the Wyoming Territory. Lom knew of a job for them and they were running out of money, as usual, so they needed work. Lom had a wealthy friend who wanted to hire a couple of men for two different tasks and Lom recommended Heyes and the Kid because he knew they were always looking for work since going straight. Heyes was to accompany the man's family as they moved west to their new home in San Francisco; his job was to make the travel arrangements and to travel with them to ensure that they arrived safely. The man himself had business to conduct before joining his family – bank business – and Lom had suggested that the Kid accompany him since he was familiar with the "banking" business. Heyes and the Kid had had a private laugh at that since their only experience with banks had been in robbing them back in their outlawing days, but the Kid cut a dashing figure and the man hired him without knowing their background. The Kid's job also was to be a bodyguard, of sorts, and to guard the valise full of valuable securities and such that his employer was carrying. The valise first had to be safely delivered to Sacramento before the man could join his family. It was decided that they would leave on different days and travel independently, so as to keep the man's family out of any possible danger. Heyes and the Kid made plans to meet afterward at the home of their old friend Silky O'Sullivan in San Francisco. Heyes sent a telegram telling Silky to expect him and the Kid separately some time before Christmas. He gave no more details as he didn't know any.

The family and their servants, along with Heyes, had left right on schedule, but there were a couple of delays with the securities and the Kid had left later than scheduled. In addition, to protect his valuables, Lom's friend had scheduled a roundabout route that he hadn't told the Kid about. As a result, the Kid was arriving several days later than he had anticipated. There had been no problems, but the Kid was going to arrive at Silky's place late, after Christmas instead of before. And to make matters worse, his employer had not allowed the Kid to send any telegram, for purposes of security.

Relaxing in the cab, the Kid chuckled about how worried his friend Heyes probably was about him by now. It was his nature to worry anyway, and a few days unexpected delay would make things worse. Their former lives as thieves had been fraught with danger and going straight had been less troublesome. Although they had retired from outlawing, they were still wanted by the law for past deeds and there were still plenty of things to worry about. And worry was what Heyes did best. The Kid chuckled once more; it would be very pleasant to see his partner again.

* * *

One week earlier, Hannibal Heyes himself had arrived in San Francisco. His job had gone well, he had gotten paid well, and he had stopped to buy a couple of Christmas presents before heading over to Silky's house. Heyes was in a wonderful mood. The job had been uneventful, the family had been pleasant, the ride had been comfortable, and he was about to greet an old friend at Christmastime! Best of all, he would soon be reunited with his partner! Everything was going well.

Silky's Chinese manservant, Chinn Lu, opened the door. Heyes had always liked Chinn Lu. The exchanges between the grouchy Silky, who spoke only English, and the animated Chinn Lu, who spoke mostly Chinese with a little broken English, had always been a source of amusement for Heyes and the Kid. Heyes was looking forward to spending a couple of days relaxing at Silky's elegant place while waiting for the Kid. Chinn Lu attended to Silky during the day and went home to his own family in Chinatown each night.

Chinn Lu remembered Heyes and warmly ushered him in to the parlor. "Hello, Chinn Lu, how are you?" said Heyes kindly. Chinn Lu returned something in Chinese and indicated Heyes should wait there while he went to find the master of the house. A moment later Silky himself entered the room.

Heyes held out his hand, happy to see his old friend. They shook hands and affectionately embraced, but only Heyes had a smile on his face. Heyes had an instinct for reading people and knew immediately that something was wrong. Silky was an old man, a flim-flam artist in the old days who had retired nicely from his gain. But in the last few years he hadn't been in the best of health. Heyes braced himself for the worst and waited.

"Sit down, Heyes," Silky said softly. Heyes did as he was bid. Heyes had been through a lot in his short life; he had known a lot of disappointment and seen friends die. He did not want to have to go through this again, but he reasoned that Silky had had a long happy life and it was time. He also knew that it would be easier to deal with once the Kid arrived.

"Heyes, I have something to show you," said Silky. He was very solemn. Silky's normal demeanor was cantankerous and this behavior was new to Heyes, who was surprised to find himself holding on to the chair arms for support. Silky reached for a newspaper on the table behind Heyes and held it up for him to read.

The headline said OUTLAW KID CURRY KILLED IN WYOMING.

Heyes gasped softly and grabbed the newspaper. He scanned it quickly but was only able to read a few words before the print became illegible to him. He felt his head spinning and he became weak. He shook his head in denial. "What does it say, Silky? What happened?" His voice wasn't much above a whisper.

Silky gently removed the newspaper from Heyes's hands, and folded it. "It says the Kid was recognized in Wyoming by a lawman in Liberty who organized a posse. He ran and they gunned him down in cold blood. He . . ." Silky apparently thought better and stopped talking. He had not taken his eyes off Heyes the entire time.

"The Kid is . . . _dead?" _Heyes was in shock. He had spent his whole life with the Kid. He couldn't imagine an existence without the Kid. His friend, his partner . . . "Silky, I . . ." His head reeled.

Silky had already moved to the sideboard to pour Heyes a drink. He got a glass for himself, too. "Here, drink this down."

Heyes took the glass but just held on to it. His eyes stared off into space. He couldn't accept that his partner was gone. Not the Kid! God, no – not the Kid!

Silky understood. Patiently, he sat near Heyes and was silent. Neither spoke for a very long time. Heyes sipped the brandy slowly and thoughtfully and when the glass was empty, Silky refilled it.

Eventually, Heyes was the first to speak. His voice was low and sad. "We were supposed to meet here. The Kid and I took two different jobs. We were supposed to meet back here afterward. Damn, Silky!" He shook his head. "Since we were kids. We've been together since we were kids. I just can't even think . . ." There was a catch in his voice and he couldn't continue.

"I want you to stay here for a few days, Heyes. Maybe more."

"What? Oh . . . Silky, I don't want . . ."

Silky got cranky again. "I don't care what you want! You know you're not thinking straight. You're liable to run off and do something stupid. Besides, I'm an old man and I need someone to share Christmas with. You're staying here, Heyes!" He yelled for Chinn Lu to take the visitor's bags to the first bedroom at the top of the stairs.

Not wishing to seem ungrateful, Heyes thanked Silky and could think of no objection to voice. He actually couldn't concentrate on anything at all and realized he was suddenly very tired. "If you don't mind, Silky, I'd like to be alone." He walked slowly up the steps and sat down on the bed. He closed his eyes and leaned against the headboard, ignoring Chinn Lu's barrage of instructions in Chinese. "It can't be," he whispered to himself over and over.

When Chinn Lu came back in the morning to wake him, he was still sitting in the same position.

* * *

For the next few days, Silky watched closely as Heyes slowly roused himself from his emotional stupor. At first, he was largely unresponsive and lethargic but slowly he began to move about the house and take an interest in things. After a couple of days, Silky was able to talk Heyes into taking a walk about the neighborhood with him. Heyes enjoyed this and the fresh air was good for him. Silky had lost a partner once himself, many years ago, and he understood how much it could hurt. But outlawing of any kind was a dangerous business and maybe Heyes was just too soft-hearted to survive. It was probably a good thing he had retired.

Soon the animated Chinese/English exchanges between Silky and Chinn Lu began to amuse Heyes again. Heyes enjoyed watching the two of them arguing all the time. He sensed a real affection there, and he felt comfortable with that, but he was envious. Heyes missed the Kid tremendously. So much so, in fact, that he was even beyond weeping about it. The pain was very deep.

Silky observed what he thought was an improvement in Heyes and misunderstood. In reality, Heyes was doing his best to avoid thinking about the sad things and was just attempting to get through one day at a time. He dreaded Christmas coming up because that was a time for families. And since he had been very young, the Kid had been his only family. He wanted to forget about Christmas altogether but had promised Silky that he would stay to keep him company and really believed that Silky needed it.

As the days slowly passed, Heyes appeared to feel better. At first he had not seen much point in getting out of bed in the morning but was forced to when Chinn Lu literally yelled at him in Chinese and threw his clean clothes on the bed for him to put on each morning. He seldom understood anything the Chinese man was yelling at him, but got the general idea that he was expected to get out of bed and face the day. After a couple of days, he surprised himself by joining in and yelling back. "All right, all right! I'm up, see?" Later he found himself thanking Chinn Lu for cleaning his clothes and for cooking his meals and he found himself thanking Silky for spending time with him. But at the time he was just going through the motions.

Silky tried several times to get Heyes to talk about the Kid but Heyes stubbornly refused to do so. Silky could see how much his young friend was hurting, but each time he brought up the subject, Heyes changed it. He knew Heyes well and could see how deeply he had been affected by the news of the Kid's death, and hoped for the best for his friend.

Silky and Heyes spent most of Christmas Day with the family of a friend of Silky's about four houses down the street. The man was a doctor with a lovely wife and several children, and the entire family was welcoming to their friend and his guest. Heyes had been comfortable with the sameness of the days he had spent at Silky's, but was ill at ease in the company of strangers, especially during the holiday. Immediately after supper, Heyes excused himself to return home and Silky followed shortly thereafter. In the parlor, they exchanged Christmas gifts: a bottle of imported brandy for Silky, Mark Twain's latest book, autographed, for Heyes.

They leaned back and enjoyed the warm fire while allowing the brandy to take its effect. Silky felt that Heyes wanted to say something, so he was silent. After a while, Heyes said, "I'll be leaving in the morning, Silky."

"Oh? Where are you going?"

Heyes hesitated before answering. Foolishly, he hadn't expected to be asked this and didn't know how to answer. He wanted to be with his partner one more time and the only way he knew how to do that was to visit the grave. This was a very private desire he did not wish to share with anyone. After that, he didn't know or care where he'd go. He heard, "Heyes? Talk to me, Heyes."

Heyes closed his eyes. In reality, he really did want to talk to someone but couldn't. That someone was dead.

"I'm just leaving, Silky. I've imposed on you long enough."

"Before you go, I want to talk to you about something, Heyes."

No! This is exactly what Heyes had been working hard to avoid all week – talking about the Kid. He couldn't face it yet. He didn't know why, but he couldn't. Heyes set down the brandy snifter and stood to leave.

"Sit down!"

"No, Silky. I don't want to talk about the Kid. I keep telling you."

"Sit down, damn it! I want to tell you a little story. About me!"

Heyes eyed the doorway. He looked back at Silky. He remembered all that Silky had done for the Kid and him when they were teenagers. And all that Silky had done for him this week. He owed his old friend some respect. He sat back down – all senses alert.

"That's better," Silky said. Silky leaned back in his chair and relaxed again. The irritable appearance of his face was softened by the sweet expression that accompanies pleasant memories. "Do you recollect me ever talking about William? Billy?"

Heyes shook his head. The name was familiar but he wasn't thinking straight these days.

"Billy was my partner. Before you and the Kid were born, probably. I was maybe about the age you are now. Only partner I ever had. We had a great little flim-flam going there. Made lots of money. LOTS of money. We did mostly bilk schemes. He was good at what he did. He was fun, too. Made me laugh. Always took care of me. And me him. We traveled and saw the country. Met lots of people. Yeah, Billy and me were good together." He sighed.

Heyes didn't like the little alarm this was raising in him, but he felt compelled to wait.

"I'm surprised I never told you about him. You think I'm a grouchy old man, but you never knew me back then, Heyes. Billy and me, we laughed a lot. Life was good then. Life was good." He hesitated. "I loved him. I really loved him. He was _my _Jed Curry!"

So that's what this was all about! Heyes jumped up. Silky stood up, too, and kept talking, raising his voice. "He died, Heyes, just like the Kid. Some hick town we were in got ahold of him and hung him! And I did what I had to do – I ran and got away. I saved myself. Because I didn't have a choice. Whether you like it or not, life goes on. And _you_ are your own best friend now!"

Heyes growled at Silky, "How many times do I have to tell . . .?"

Silky interrupted him. "And I'm living proof that you can be all right if you lose someone you care about. You have to face each day as it comes and find some good in it. No matter where you go or what you do, you can't run away from your feelings, Heyes. I know you loved the Kid. He loved you, too. But he's dead. Face it! Face it, let it out, and move on."

Heyes glared at Silky but was rooted to the spot. Silky figured that was about the best he could hope for. He kept talking. "It's been a lot of years. The hurt never really stops. That's all right – you'll always have him in your heart. But you move on. Because you have to." He stopped and saw distress deep in his young friend's eyes. He sighed and looked away. "I still miss Billy. Even after all these years." Silky downed his brandy and set down his glass. "That's all this old man's got to say. Good night, Heyes." And he went upstairs.

Heyes sat back down and stared at the fire a long time before going up to bed. In the morning, he left before Silky got up, and even before Chinn Lu arrived for the day. But he left a note saying thanks and telling Silky where he was headed.

* * *

Kid Curry had changed into his suit at the train station and taken a hansom cab to Silky's house. Carpetbag in hand, he jaunted up the steps and knocked on Silky's front door, anxious to see his friends.

It was 9:30 at night. Silky had been sitting in the parlor, staring idly out the front window, and had seen the Kid approaching. Silky knew there had to be something wrong with the gas street lights. Or maybe his eyes. He closed them tightly and re-opened them. He did it again. Each time, Kid Curry was still standing patiently outside his door.

He rushed to the door and flung it open. The Kid really was standing outside. Silky stood there with his mouth open.

"Evenin', Silky. Merry Christmas, one day late," Kid Curry smiled and tipped his bowler hat.

No response.

"Well, it's a good thing it's winter, or I'd say you'd be attracting flies, with your mouth open like that."

When the familiar voice finally registered with Silky, he reached out and grabbed him with both hands. "It's you, Kid! It's really you!"

The Kid was confused. "Yeah, it's me. Didn't you get Heyes's telegram?"

Silky was acting crazy. He was laughing and doing a little dance. "Come in, come in!" He grabbed the Kid again and pulled him inside. "Let me just look at you. Man, you're a sight for sore eyes."

The Kid smiled. "Well, you're looking good, too, Silky."

"How did you get away from that posse?"

Now the Kid was really confused. "Posse?"

"The one in Liberty. The newspaper said they killed you!"

"Killed me! A posse!" The Kid was beginning to get angry. "I've never been to Liberty! What are you talking about?"

Silky looked around and found the newspaper that had been thrown near the fireplace. "This newspaper. It says the posse shot you as you were trying to get away!"

The Kid took the paper and skimmed it. He threw it back toward the fireplace. "There was never a posse after me! I have no intention of being shot by a sheriff! I'm not reckless like Billy The Kid! You should know better than that, Silky!" He glared at Silky, then at the newspaper. "I've never even heard of this sheriff! He must have been trying to make a name for himself."

Silky shook his head blankly as he considered the implications.

"Sheriff probably wanted to be famous and picked someone who fit the description," the Kid repeated. "Poor bastard must've been a drifter, no family." He mused over it for a second. "Well, I'm very sorry, Silky, you thought I was dead. I'm far from dead!"

Silky smiled broadly and slapped the Kid on the back. "Well, you don't know how happy this makes me, Kid. This is cause for a celebration!" He went to the sideboard and grabbed a decanter, pouring them both a snifter of brandy. "Ha, ha! Kid, this news is just too good!" He was very excited. "To your health," he said. "I mean that sincerely."

"Yours, too." They both drank the brandy; then the Kid asked, "When will Heyes be getting here?"

Silky stopped smiling as suddenly as he had started. "My god," he said. "Heyes."

The Kid waited.

"Heyes was already here. He left this morning."

The Kid was hesitant. "Does that mean . . . ?"

"Yes."

"_Heyes_ thinks I'm dead? He thinks I'm _dead?!"_

"We both believed the article." Silky had a mournful look in his eyes.

The Kid sat down, stunned. Then Silky sat down. They were both quiet in their own thoughts for a minute, then the Kid said, "How'd he take it, Silky? How is he?"

Silky lowered his voice. "He's hurting, Kid. Hurting bad. I've never seen him like this."

* * *

Heyes chose to make the trip to Liberty by horseback rather than train or coach, mostly so he would not have to be with other people. A couple days' ride out of San Francisco put him in lonely country, anyhow. The rolling countryside was beautiful but isolated, and Heyes appreciated the seclusion. Instinctively he knew it would be a long time before he would feel any attraction to life again. Heyes didn't want to die, but he couldn't think of a good reason for living either. All the things he had ever cared about in his life had now been taken from him. Even his preferred vocation – safecracking – was a thing of the past for him. Nothing really mattered to him anymore. He had one goal – to touch the grave of his partner – and then he didn't really care what happened to him after that. He knew that one day he would seek revenge on that murdering sheriff but he couldn't concentrate on it now. He had to find a way to patch his life back together first so he could think clearly. As he rode, he considered different possibilities, including moving to Mexico, pairing with someone else, returning to lead the Devils Hole Gang, maybe even traveling to Europe. Each possibility was as attractive and as repulsive as the others; it just didn't matter. If the Kid had been there, they would have . . . well, it just didn't matter.

Heyes knew that he was a survivor. It was not a desirable role. Throughout his life he had survived things that perhaps he shouldn't have. Oftentimes his quick wits came to his rescue. Sometimes it was just pure dumb luck. Usually the Kid was by his side. Maybe, thought Heyes, maybe the Kid was a good-luck charm. But the Kid was gone. What good was being a survivor if there was nothing to survive for?

The further away from the emotional cushion that Silky's predictable life offered, the closer Heyes came to being forced to confront the deficiencies in his own life. He had expected the opposite to be true, figuring that Silky was a constant reminder of the Kid; but once on his own, he discovered that he thought of little else. The nights around the campfire were the worst. Similar to an abandoned lover, he found that the loneliness was the strongest at night. Their partnership had always worked to provide companionship and safety. At the very least, he needed someone to watch his back, but he craved much more than that. These were the times for sharing memories, hopes and dreams. They had been together since childhood. Heyes reflected that he would never again be able to trust anyone as absolutely as he'd trusted the Kid. He didn't believe he'd ever be able to feel love again. In his mind, love and trust were the same thing. Love! Silky had said that he – Heyes – loved the Kid. Likely that was true. What else could explain the emptiness or the pain? But if that was love, why did it have to be taken away? Life had always been harsh for Heyes, and one thing that he had always enjoyed was the companionship of the Kid, the good times they had shared . . .

But there was still a price on his head. As he rode, Heyes jerked himself back to reality with that sudden thought. He concentrated and realized it was more than a stray thought that had alerted him. But what? He looked around and saw nothing that could have caused this sudden caution. He snorted. "You're going crazy, Hannibal Heyes," he said softly to himself.

But then he did become aware of something unusual. He smelled the very faint smell of smoke. Not tobacco smoke or campfire smoke or even the smoke from a forest fire, but something different. He had smelled it once before, a long time ago, when his folks were killed in the Border Wars and his house set on fire. That's what it was – a house on fire. He looked around and saw no sign of life anywhere. No smoke. No house.

As he rode on, the smoke became visible and got stronger and thicker. He began to be aware of a stirring deep in his soul – a sort of primal vigilance, maybe even fear. He spurred his horse in the direction of the thickest smoke. An alarm was going off deep inside him and he didn't understand it or know why. A couple of miles further up the road the flames became visible. It was indeed a house that was on fire. At this point Heyes heard a sound that put a voice to the unnamed fear that thickened the air – it was a low-pitched wail, a haunting half-animal howl that drifted directly to his soul. He spurred his skittish mare on harder and was forced to dismount and run to the house himself when she refused to go further.

As he approached the yard he saw the entire front of the house engulfed in flames. A wagon with two skittish horses was crowded safely into a corner created by the barn and a fence. Heyes followed the tracks of the wagon to the side of the house and discovered a man lying on the ground. It had been from him that the haunting voice was emanating. Heyes ran over to him.

When he realized he was not alone, the light-haired man grabbed Heyes with both arms and started screaming at him. His words were incoherent over the roar of the fire, but it was clear that he had been hurt and couldn't move his legs. It looked as if he had been thrown from the wagon when the horses spooked.

"Don't worry, I'll get you out here," Heyes yelled, and put his arms around the man in an attempt to lift him.

"No, no," the man screamed back. "My wife! Get my wife! In the house!" He continued screaming and he pushed Heyes in the direction of the back of the house.

Heyes hesitated only a second before he realized what was needed of him, and he bolted for the back side of the house, where he saw the flames just beginning to appear. He knew from experience how quickly these dry houses burned. He calculated the risk and knew it would only be a minute before the entire house was engulfed in fire, and he recognized that he didn't care about his own life. The only thing that mattered at that moment was finding the woman.

He quickly removed his jacket and dunked it in the water in the horse trough, and submerged his head as well. He threw the jacket around his shoulders, kicked open the door without trying the handle, and crawled inside. The smoke was intense and stung his eyes and burned his throat but most of it was above him. He couldn't see far but he did see what looked like a pile of cloth lying to the left a couple of yards. He crawled over to it and could make out that it was the woman. She was not moving and appeared to be dead. The flames were getting closer. Heyes threw his jacket over her head and grabbed her skirts and pulled her out through the door. A lick of flame grazed Heyes's left forearm and he yelped but did not drop his precious cargo. Once outside, he picked her up and ran with her over to where the man was screaming "Rachel, Rachel!" The man scooped her into his arms and rocked her. He stopped screaming and started crying.

Heyes leaned against a tree and tried hard to overcome the damage the smoke had done to his throat. He coughed and wheezed until he could speak. Between gasps, he said, "I'm . . . sorry . . ."

And then he witnessed a miracle. The woman began to cough. And cough and cough. Her whole body racked with attempts to bring normal breath back again. The man continued to hold her. Somehow he must have known she was still alive. When Rachel revived, the first thing she saw was her husband. She threw her arms around him and cried. He held her and cried, too.

Heyes was completely miserable. His eyes smarted and his throat and lungs burned. His arm was blistered and hurt like the devil. He was exhausted. He collapsed to the ground, cradling his arm. Over the roar of the fire he could hear the couple next to him sobbing so hard they were gasping for breath. Heyes envied their joy. He couldn't understand why he was still alive. He closed his eyes and allowed his thoughts to return to happier times . . .

Soon the fire lessened and the only sound he could hear the couple make was the soft talk of two people who love each other. He opened his eyes and was startled to see both of them looking at him.

"You saved my life," she gasped.

"I can't tell you how grateful I am," the man said, choking. There were still tears in his eyes. They both reached out to Heyes but couldn't quite touch him.

They thought he was a hero! Heyes stared foolishly at them for a moment, then unsuccessfully attempted a smile.

They were mistaken. He had never been accused of being a hero before and he knew he wasn't one now.

* * *

The Kid spent the night at Silky's and awoke the next morning with a headache after having shared much of the bottle of brandy Heyes had brought for Christmas. The Kid had always liked Silky but became agitated after hearing "I just can't believe it!" one too many times. He and Silky plotted a course for him to reach Liberty. He bought a horse and saddle and left early, hoping, but not really expecting, to run across Heyes on the way. Silky had always been like a father to both of them and warned the Kid repeatedly about the sad condition Heyes was in.

The Kid had a lot of country to traverse and a lot of time to think. The things that Silky told him about his friend kept coming to the forefront of his mind. For the first time possibly ever, Kid Curry consciously thought about the relationship between himself and his partner, Hannibal Heyes. They had been together since . . . well, he couldn't remember a time when they hadn't been together. There had been good times and there had been bad times and they had always shared them. The memories unrolled through his mind and he saw Heyes in each and every one. They always watched out for each other, took care of each other, were always there for each other when needed. He knew now that Heyes's commitment had always been something he took for granted.

But the Kid also knew that if you take something for granted, you don't miss it until it's gone. He lingered on this thought, drawing a connection between his "death" and its impact on his friend. For the first time, he began to truly understand how badly Heyes must feel. As a gunfighter, he had steeled himself against most emotion for the sole purpose of survival, but he knew he was not immune to the affection he had often felt being freely granted to him by his friend. He hoped he returned this affection sufficiently. The thought that he may not have done so saddened him and made him even more anxious to see Heyes again.

For the first time, the full impact of his partner's sense of loss came crashing in on the Kid. He realized that Heyes loved him and was suffering. On the one hand this depressed the Kid because he really cared about his partner. On the other hand, this pleased him because he thought he understood now how much his friend really cared about him.

* * *

Heyes continued on his mission to visit the Kid's grave. The lush countryside of northern California was far behind him and he was entering a land that could have been the entryway to hell. Even in the best of circumstances, this was desolate forlorn country, and for Heyes, this was the worst of circumstances. There was no break from the continuing landscape of rock and sagebrush, which served as a constant reminder of the desolation of his life. Here was the inescapable reality of his loneliness. At one point, Heyes was startled to hear someone wailing _"Kid!," _and completely shocked when he realized it was his own voice. It was his declaration of desperation and hopelessness, he realized. He put his hand to his throat in a symbolic gesture of strangulation, wishing to end the misery. Heyes was tired of suffering. He had an idea that he could feel better if he could shed tears over the memory of his dearest friend, but he was unable to cry. He had not cried since his parents had been murdered, so many years ago, and he did not remember how. As his horse plodded along, Heyes covered his eyes with his hands, shutting out the view of the landscape. But the memories persisted.

At this point, towns were few and far between, and avoiding them was no longer a problem. In fact, Heyes began to wish towns were more prevalent because he was wearying of trail food and of his own company. Occasionally there was a stand of trees or greenery and a town usually was formed around it. He followed a stagecoach trail to such a town – Colton. It was mid-afternoon and there appeared to be a small hotel so Heyes made the decision to take a room for the night. A room, a bath, and a square meal might do wonders for the soul, he reasoned. A feather bed would help, too. Heyes reflected on the fact that he hadn't slept well since leaving Silky's. In fact, he hadn't slept much at all since he had found out about the Kid. Sleep had become a luxury.

Heyes checked in and treated himself to a hot bath and a shave before dinner. The hotel also had a dining room so he put on clean clothes and went down to get some supper. He ordered steak and vegetables. Even though he didn't really taste the food, he reflected on the fact that his appetite was beginning to return. A couple with a small boy were the only other diners in the room. He could overhear their conversation and felt he was intruding in their lives. There was a mongrel dog sleeping under their table and the family was arguing about the dog. At one point, the conversation became loud and animated, and Heyes clearly understood that the father did not want the boy to keep the dog, which he had found recently, as a pet. The boy was close to crying, but restrained himself. Heyes's heart went out to him, but he did not interfere.

In a few minutes, the family finished eating and they left the dining room with the dog. Heyes heard the father say, "First thing tomorrow morning, I take him out to the gully and lose him! You just be thankful I don't shoot him!"

Heyes paid his bill and strode outside. His horse was still hitched in front of the hotel and he decided it would be a lovely evening for a ride before bed. The thought that the Kid would have enjoyed just such an evening's ride came into his head, and he tried to push it out.

He rode north at an easy canter, keeping to the road to avoid uneven footing for the horse. The easy ride was enjoyable. He removed his hat and enjoyed the feeling of the cool night breeze through his hair. Ahead of him, in the light of the full moon, he saw the buckboard of the family he had just seen. The horse appeared nervous. The family, however, was gone.

Something was clearly wrong. All of Heyes's senses came to attention, alert to anything unusual. In an instant he detected noises that were nearby but not close enough to be discernible. They sounded like animal noises, possibly mixed with human sounds. He tied his skittish horse to the buckboard and bolted into the prairie toward the sounds. As he ran, the sounds became clearer. He heard the father and mother yelling and he heard the sounds coyotes make as they are circling their prey for the kill. He wondered vaguely where the boy and dog were.

Soon the scene revealed itself ahead of him. The moon came out from behind the clouds and Heyes was shocked to see the man and woman bending over something, yelling and waving their arms. They were surrounded by a large number of coyotes, animals that attack in packs. Normally they will not attack two people who are obviously larger than they are, so Heyes wondered what the motivation was. Then he saw the mongrel dog. The dog was circling the people, attempting to protect them from the coyotes, snarling and snapping at the predators, managing to keep them at bay. Was he their prey?

No. Finally Heyes saw the prey. The boy was on the ground between his parents, visibly hurt.

Heyes pulled his gun and fired several shots into the air. The startled coyotes took off in all directions. The mongrel dog continued to snarl and bark at them.

Heyes kneeled down by the family. He asked, "What happened? Are you all right?" The mother began crying and grabbed her son, who was bleeding.

The father took a breath and spoke, never taking his eyes off his boy. "The dog jumped out of the wagon and ran off and my son ran off after him. By the time we got here, these devils were all around. They attacked my son!" Heyes quickly checked over the boy, who was more frightened than injured. "He'll be all right," said Heyes.

The father sighed loudly with relief and looked at the stranger for the first time. "I think the dog heard the coyotes and jumped out of the wagon to run them off. We never heard them. My son ran after him. We left the rifle in the wagon when we ran after our boy." He paused. "Thank you for helping us," he said humbly. He touched Heyes's burned arm.

Heyes felt the pain and recoiled. In a moment he said, "It's the dog you should be thanking. He saved your lives. When you leaned over your son, the animals saw you get smaller. Good prey. Your dog held them off."

The parents looked at each other. "We'll keep the dog," said the father.

* * *

There was a bit of desperation evident in the pace Kid Curry was setting for himself and his mount. When it became obvious to the Kid that the two of them needed a rest, he pulled off the road and reined his horse to a large shrub. The Kid sat down near his horse and pensively chewed on some beef jerky he had brought for himself. His thoughts since leaving Silky's had run mostly the same course – Heyes. He was concerned for Heyes, who, he knew, was anguished. Since the Kid had come to realize that their affection for each other was very deep, he had started looking forward to their reunion with great anticipation. Briefly, he felt badly that it had taken such a powerful thing as his "death" for him to come to the realization that he had someone who cared about him and who he cared about. But the negative feeling passed quickly, quelled in the wake of the joy he felt at loving and being loved.

* * *

The mirror over the bar in the Liberty Saloon provided one of the only looking-glasses in the building aside from her room upstairs, so Mary checked her reflection as she walked by. Staring back at her was a 30 year old woman with too much kohl around the eyes and rouge on the cheeks, but a lovely woman nonetheless, in her tight green satin dress. This wasn't the real Mary, she reflected, just the one that the bar patrons were allowed to see. This one smiled a lot, laughed at bad jokes a lot, "entertained" in her room a lot. The Mary that she kept to herself was a different woman – sad and lonely, living a lie.

Sighing, Mary leaned back against the bar and surveyed the room. It was the usual Saturday night crowd – rowdy cowboys looking for a way to let off steam and spend their paychecks. She recognized most of the faces (most of the shirts, too) and began her usual honing-in process to decide who her conquests of the night would be. This early in the evening, no one was even noticing her yet.

When Hannibal Heyes walked into the saloon, Mary saw a sad handsome stranger who looked lonely. She found herself strangely attracted to him immediately and decided she would give him a minute to settle before approaching him with a proposition. He wore a miserable look that bespoke heartbreak and she knew he could use her brand of cheering up.

Heyes sat at the bar and ordered a beer. The saloon was a lively place that night, including a poker game or two, but he only folded his arms on the bar and stared down at his beer. Or more likely at nothing.

Heyes was deep in thought and didn't realize Mary was standing next to him until she spoke. "Hello, stranger," she said seductively, running the back of her hand along his thigh. "When I see a handsome man walk in here alone, I just wonder if he'd like company?" He looked up, but didn't turn to look at her. She knew she wasn't getting to him but felt compelled to keep trying. Undaunted, she said, "Such a long face. I bet I can make your 'spirits' rise."

Heyes looked at her and offered a small sad smile. He touched her face gently and she melted. "I don't doubt that you could," he said. "But maybe some other time. I'm not in the mood right now."

That one touch was enough for her to see right through those dark liquid eyes all the way to the back of his soul. She sensed a deep melancholy, an ache, a longing – and she began to be acutely aware of her own sadness. She wanted to be with him – to spend time with him and to talk to him – and when he turned away from her again she felt a kind of desperation. He clearly wasn't interested in a seductress – he was much too deep for that. She wondered if that was all she had to give and decided that the other Mary – the one she kept bottled up inside – was the one this stranger would like. Instinctively, she felt he would understand her. After a moment, she sat down next to him and offered her hand. "I'm Mary," she said. He looked back at her and gave her that small bittersweet smile again. "Joshua," he said, shaking her hand lightly.

"Josh . . ." she gasped. "That's . . . that's the name of . . . my son."

Heyes continued looking at her but she got the impression he was looking _through_ her. Never had she known a man who seemed so sad and yet so in control of himself. Or was it that she felt that, by contrast, she was the one _losing _control? That wasn't her style. She felt a lump in her throat and the need for privacy with this stranger.

"Joshua, will you join me at that table in the corner over there?" When he looked at her strangely, she quickly added, "Just to talk."

She was mildly surprised when he nodded and picked up his beer. They sat next to each other at a table in a darkened corner, where it was relatively quiet, in contrast to the rest of the saloon.

Heyes studied Mary briefly and decided that she was not the average "saloon girl." Something in her eyes told him she had a deep secret. A secret that would hurt no one but herself. He understood that. They shared a comfort level. They shared sadness. "Your son. He must be a good boy," Heyes said frankly. "I'm sure you're a fine mother."

Mary felt her eyes fill with tears and she looked down. "He lives with his grandmother. She tells him I'm his aunt." She took a deep breath; it was hard for her to talk about this. "He's only five years old. This is no life for him." Mary spread her hands out, indicating the saloon. She looked up at Heyes, no longer ashamed that he saw her on the verge of weeping. Something about his presence was reassuring. "I send them money every month. It's better for him this way. But I hardly ever see him." She wiped her eyes with her hand. The misery was coming to the surface and was becoming intolerable. "I miss him so much!"

Sadness comes in many forms. For Mary, it was an unwelcome night visitor who kept her company in her loneliest hours. The sadness never really went away. It loomed over her and always reminded her of her inadequacies, even when she tried hard to forget. This was a secret she had chosen to live with alone. But this handsome stranger, this Joshua . . . somehow he seemed to have sensed this sadness. He didn't say much, but his body, the expression on his face . . . it all told her that what she was doing was all right. That everything would soon be better. He seemed to forgive her when she couldn't forgive herself.

But sadness for Heyes was a dank fog that permeated his body to its core – a mist of grief that swirled and played and controlled his very being. He was bewildered by this melancholy but found himself unable to fight it. Hannibal Heyes, the consummate thief, the professional robber, had been robbed of the ability to experience the joys that make life worth living. He could only endure as this invisible enemy writhed its way through his very existence, making his life intolerable. Heyes had experienced this non-feeling once before, long ago, when he had lost the only other people he had loved. He simply could not understand how it was possible to sink so low for a second time. He was angry at himself for being weak, but at the same time, he realized it was these things – the ability to feel anger and sadness, the ability to love – that made him human and made life worth living in the first place. There was some solace in that. Over the last days he had endured this cycle many times. When the sadness threatened to absorb him, he fought valiantly to remember the joyful things. In a small way, it had worked so far for him.

But tonight, tonight was different. Tonight he faced the knowledge that he would be visiting the grave of Jed Curry in the morning. This was almost unbearable. The fog of sadness enveloped him and threatened to exclude all other feelings. He closed his eyes, fighting the feeling with every fiber in his body. An image of a dreary gravesite on a lonely patch of grass appeared before him. This was not what he wanted to see. He opened his eyes again and turned to look at Mary.

Mary was staring at him with wide-open eyes and a strangled expression on her face. The grief that she had tried to hide had come to the surface and was threatening to smother her. She cried out as tears began to flow from her eyes. For the moment, Heyes forgot about himself and put his arms around Mary. He held her tightly as she sobbed, almost uncontrollably. He was surprised as he began to feel something that did not come from inside himself, something that was good, finally. He felt her hair brush against his face. He felt the warmth of her body. He smelled her perfume and the sweat on the back of her neck. Heyes pulled her closer and wound his gloved hand through her hair as her body shook with profound grief. _Heyes felt her grief!_

Another's grief. It was at that moment that he finally knew.

This knowledge, this recognition, this understanding . . . Heyes finally knew. He understood that he was helping Mary ease her grief – that he was instrumental to her ability to move on.

And he also understood now that he had helped the family with the dog. And he understood now that he had helped the young couple whose house had burned. He understood how important he had been to all these people. He could help these people because he cared. Because he had loved. He knew now that he could go on living because – _because he had loved!_ He finally understood! For Heyes, this was a revelation. All those people had used him and he had learned from them and he felt good about that.

Good! Heyes felt good about something! The bleak fog of sadness began to ebb from his body. He felt it slip away, flowing in the tears of the woman in his arms. Heyes felt light-headed as the tremendous burden lifted from his soul. He knew now! He knew! He knew that he had loved someone who had died and that ability to love was all that mattered! He knew that it was all right to move on. Heyes closed his eyes and this time no heartbreaking images presented themselves. A sort of peace settled over his soul, and for the first time in many days, Hannibal Heyes smiled a true smile.

"You're doing the right thing, Mary," he said softly. Then he held her face with his hand and kissed her lightly on the cheek. It was not a sexual kiss, but rather the touch of appreciation of the sudden insight between two strangers. A kiss of understanding, the touch of two souls. Mary had never felt this way about anyone before, but somehow she knew that he had.

Being with this stranger had made her feel better. Her life was worth living now; she could face what lay ahead. She couldn't even begin to find the right words to thank him. She set her lips and looked at him. "There are different ways to lose someone," she said thoughtfully.

Heyes thought about that, then asked after a moment, "Where does your son live?" It was his only response.

"Simontown. It's 90 miles from here."

Heyes stood up so she did, too. "Mary, I have something to do tomorrow and then I'll be leaving town."

"I'm leaving town, too." She beamed at him, almost afraid to believe in the joy he had imparted to her. I'm going to Simontown. To claim my son. I've just finally decided to do the right thing! I'm going to tell him who I am and we're going to live together!"

He smiled and they hugged and he kissed her again and then began to walk away.

"Joshua!" she called suddenly. He turned back. "Thank you," she said, "with all my heart."

He was still smiling and then he was gone.

After he left, she realized with a start that he had not told her why he was sad. But somehow she knew he had lost someone dear to him. Her happiness lay ahead. Heyes's, she knew, was in the past.

* * *

The most terrible day of all was still ahead, but now Hannibal Heyes felt strong enough to bear it. He went straight to his hotel room and fell asleep. It was the first good night's sleep he had had in many days. He dreamed of the time when he was a boy and he and his friend Jed liked to go fishing together.

* * *

The next day, it was early morning, 9:00 AM or so. After riding much of the night, Kid Curry finally reached Liberty. The first thing he did when he rode into town was inquire at the livery stable as to whether or not a Mr. Joshua Smith had a horse stabled there. He was ecstatic when the stableman pointed out Heyes's horse. Hoping that Heyes would still be in his hotel room, he asked the desk clerk for the room number, but was told that Mr. Smith had checked out recently. Further inquiry informed him that Mr. Smith had checked in only last night, so the Kid theorized Heyes must not have planned on staying there long. He realized he had to use the same methods Heyes would use to reason things out. He asked where the cemetery was that Kid Curry was buried and was given the location and the added information that it was a popular tourist spot, a fact that caused him to cringe a little. He then asked for the nearest restaurant and walked over there, figuring he'd find Heyes at breakfast. He was completely surprised to see Heyes leaving the restaurant as he approached it. He ducked behind the side of the building so as not to be seen; the main street of Liberty truly was not the place to have someone yell out "Kid! You're alive!" Fortunately, Heyes did not see him. This was the first glimpse the Kid had had of Heyes since they had parted to take the two different jobs. He saw how pale and unhappy his friend looked and his heart went out to him. He had been afraid that Heyes would be in a murderous mood, wanting to attack the sheriff, but now clearly that wasn't the case. He watched from there as Heyes retrieved his horse from the stable and rode slowly in the direction of the cemetery. Now the Kid knew he had to stall a little. If the grave was a popular place, he knew Heyes would wait until he had time alone, and that wait might be a long one. He went inside and ordered breakfast. As he ate, he considered his next steps.

For some time, the Kid had been laboring over the best way to reveal himself to Heyes. He remembered Silky had warned him of the shape Heyes had left San Francisco in. He had described Heyes's nerves as "fragile. The one thing in the world Heyes needs right now is to see you alive, but don't go giving him so much of a shock that it kills him!" This presented a dilemma for the Kid, who wanted nothing more than to suddenly appear in front of his friend and embrace him. He pictured lots of back-slapping and hand-wringing and hugging and smiles. But deep inside he knew Silky was right. Heyes really believed him to be dead, and that would be too abrupt for Heyes to handle. Heyes might even bolt at the sight of him!

He had to think of Heyes, not himself. He had to come up with a workable plan. He considered the possibility of having someone, maybe the hotel clerk or the barkeep, tell Heyes that someone was waiting for him outside of town. That might break the news slowly but it also might put Heyes on the defensive and cause him to ride out of town in the opposite direction. He also considered writing a note himself and slipping it to Heyes somehow. Maybe not even signing it, but knowing that Heyes would recognize his handwriting. That would be scary, and it might work; but the Kid discarded the idea. The plain, dumb fact of it was he wanted to see the happy expression on his friend's face. He very much wanted to _be _there.

When his breakfast was finished, the Kid rode toward the cemetery. As he approached, he could see several buggies and horses tied to trees outside the gate, including the horse Heyes had been riding. The cemetery had a white fence around it, and inside he could see a handful of people standing around one grave, talking in low voices. There was a young couple, an older one, and a family with some children. He didn't see Heyes until he tethered his horse and walked around the white picket fence to the other side. Heyes was standing patiently behind the crowd, head lowered and hat in hand, apparently waiting for the crowd to disperse. The Kid drew back behind a stand of trees to conceal himself. He was only about ten yards or so away and could see Heyes's profile and hear some of the crowd's somewhat triumphant conversation.

The adults in the crowd were saying things like "Good riddance," and "All those poor people he robbed!" and "All those people he killed!" The Kid frowned at the nonsense he was hearing and was afraid that his friend would come to his defense. That would certainly cause the crowd to take notice of him. But before anything happened, a boy in the crowd, maybe fifteen years old, turned to his mother and said, "No, Ma! Kid Curry never killed nobody!" Then his younger brother said, "That's right, Ma. And he was the fastest gun there ever was. There was nobody faster ever!" The Kid appreciated watching Heyes turn to the boy and give him a small smile, which the boy returned ten-fold.

One by one, the groups left. Others came to replace them, but after a while, they had all left. Heyes had been very patient. The Kid watched as his friend approached the grave marker reading "Jedediah 'Kid' Curry." The Kid began to emerge from behind the trees to confront Heyes, but ducked back when he heard another buggy approaching. The Kid didn't look at it; he couldn't take his eyes off Heyes. He watched as Heyes stood silently in front of the grave, then fell to his knees and reached out to touch the headstone. He said something low but the Kid couldn't make out what it was. The Kid felt like he was intruding on a private moment but couldn't tear his eyes away. He heard the buggy pull up to the gate and he hated himself for not telling the driver to go away – that there was no sideshow here, nothing to see. He hated himself for watching his friend's pain also, but couldn't stop observing. He watched as Heyes apparently heard the people approaching and stood up, saying something more to the grave marker and then walking away, making sure to turn his face away from the new crowd. The Kid bowed his head; this was one of the saddest moments he could remember experiencing since boyhood.

Taking a deep breath, he re-mounted his horse. He had to do something to make all this up to Heyes. He watched the direction his partner went, then followed him, many yards behind. He finally made a decision – he would wait until they were safely out of town and then confront Heyes. He couldn't stand to see his friend in pain any longer. He was also aware that he was selfishly looking forward to a reunion.

A mile out of town, his partner was no longer in sight, but the Kid continued following the hoof prints. He was considering the gentlest way to confront Heyes and really wasn't paying attention to much else, when he heard the sound of a gun hammer clicking. The sound came from somewhere behind him and to his right. Normally his first instinct would have been to throw himself to the ground and roll behind the nearest cover, but – the unthinkable – he had been caught off guard. He stopped and raised his hands slowly.

Then he heard the gunman's voice. "That's it. Keep 'em up. No suppose you tell me why you're following me?"

_It was Heyes! _Of course! Heyes had picked up on his tail and had circled back to confront him! It was what the two of them together would have done if they had discovered someone was trailing _them!_

He started to turn his face towards Heyes, but heard, "don't bother turning 'round. Just tell me from there."

Knowing he was safe in ignoring this, the Kid turned to look at his partner. "But then you couldn't see me," he said. He couldn't help smiling broadly when he saw the shock on his partner's face.

Heyes gasped loudly. His head began to swim. He was looking at a smiling Kid Curry! He knew he wasn't seeing things clearly. Heyes frowned deeply and set his jaw; suddenly his eyes were damp. He had just come from the grave of the Kid. He had only one thought in his mind – that the cruelest joke in the world had placed a man who looked very much like Kid Curry right in front of him! At the sight of this stranger who looked so much like the Kid, Heyes finally felt his grief overtake him. He gasped again and dropped the gun, covering his face with his hands. He told himself it wasn't possible, it was a cruel trick, a mirage. He slowly removed his hands and ventured another look. The stranger was still there, now with a concerned look on his face. "Who . . . are you?" Heyes asked unsteadily.

The Kid slowly dismounted, never taking his eyes off his partner. "Heyes, it's me," he said softly.

Heyes looked startled and his grief was apparent. He was pale and haggard and there was little joy of life in his face. The impish look that the Kid had always enjoyed so much was gone. Here was a man who was struggling to keep living, who had gone through more than the Kid had ever imagined. And he knew that he alone was the reason. The Kid felt a lump in his throat and had to look away briefly before speaking. He tried to keep his voice low and steady when he said, "It's me, Heyes, Kid. It's really me."

Heyes said nothing. He shook his head and took a step back. The Kid continued, "I got to Silky's after you left. He showed me the newspaper, too. It didn't really happen, Heyes. I know you thought I was dead. I'm sorry . . . so sorry . . ." Heyes was frowning and his eyes were damp. He had heard the words, but they hadn't registered. He was stunned, unable to think clearly, unable to move and barely breathing.

The Kid was both overjoyed at the reunion but devastated that Heyes did not recognize him. In that short moment, all the good things his partner had meant to him flashed through his mind. The Kid was overwhelmingly grateful to love and be loved, but distraught over Heyes's impassivity. Had Heyes been cognizant, he would have seen several emotions cross the face of his partner. But Heyes remained fixed, silent and staring at the Kid.

Anguished, the Kid stood woodenly also. The look at his eyes was imploring. His breathing was shallow and he thought his heart would burst. He had waited so long for this moment, but now it appeared he was causing only grief. No! Heyes, look at me! Please! "Please . . ." he pled in a whisper.

Finally the Kid couldn't take the suspense any longer. In sheer desperation, he threw his arms wide and yelled, "Heyes, Heyes! It's me, I'm all right, dammit!"

That's when the haze lifted; the truth finally became clear to Hannibal Heyes! His partner was not dead! The Kid was standing right in front of him, alive, healthy! Heyes let out a whoop so loud it might have been heard back in town. "Kid! Kid!" he screamed, over and over. He jumped, he danced, he laughed, he screamed. He ran for the Kid and reached him in four bounds. They threw their arms around each other and patted each other on the back and head, laughing and shrieking and bawling at the same time. Heyes was crying openly now and didn't care in the least. He pushed the Kid away from him to get a good look and then clutched him tighter than ever, clawing at the back of his jacket. The Kid himself laughed in sheer abandon, now only vaguely aware that this was the reunion he had been hoping for.

After a few moments they both became quiet, but the embrace continued. Their need to hold each other continued for some time, precious moments that they both appreciated. Even when they separated, they were still very much together in many ways. That wonderful day they reveled in each other's company. The renewed sharing of memories, hopes and dreams was heavenly to them. They spoke of their travels and, most importantly, they shared their discoveries about themselves. It was dark before they realized they'd better pitch camp. Heyes was still very tired and fell asleep early, and the Kid stayed awake to watch over him. He smiled when he remembered that he had forgotten to give Heyes the Christmas gift in his saddlebags. Eventually he fell asleep smiling, secure and content in his newfound ability to feel true joy.

* * *

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.


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